Sleeplessness
by PromiseRuin
Summary: Harry has had a great deal of trouble sleeping. Could someone help? DracoxHarry. Rated for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

If it wasn't for my damn window pointing toward the east, I would probably sleep better. But, even if I stayed up until five in the morning, I would wake up thirty minutes later, with the sun shining on me. I used to blame Jarred. That bastard, making me sleep on the window side.

_So I won't be cold!_ Oh whatever, you just didn't care enough to let me sleep. You were too selfish to let Harry Potter, your God damn, arse-kissing boyfriend sleep on the other side for one night!

But, after I made him leave, it seemed to get worse. It wasn't the sun that would wake me, but how cold my house really was. I was so used to holding onto something warm, that I would sleep through the most freezing time of day.

Like a flame, burning brightly, about to go out, the night was coldest at its end.

When the lights of the city began to go out, and I saw the sky light up, I wanted, more than anything to just lie down and force sleep. But, I had learned, long ago, that sleep is the hardest thing to force. So I pulled myself from bed, and walked to my bathroom.

Aside from it being two stories tall, the shower was really the reason that I got the apartment. It was the size of my room at the Dursley's, maybe even a little bigger. It always smelled familiar, like a real home, I had never known.

After I turned the shower on, I went to the sink and felt my chin stubble. I remember when Jarred would make me shave it all, though I never liked it. I rubbed my thumb over my chin, and decided to try something new. I shaved all around it, leaving only the hair my chin, and some on my upper lip.

I put the shaver, along with all the attachments in the drawer and stepped into the shower. It took only a moment for me to adjust it to the right temperature, so it didn't burn my skin anymore.

I got dressed in a gray suit, and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. I put some wheat bread in the toaster and poured a cup of coffee, already brewed from 5:30. I never remembered to make it in the morning, so I made it at night and it turned on when programmed. Sometimes, but not often, muggles came through for me. After breakfast I went off to the Ministry, where I spent most of my time working.

Work was always the same. Every day, of every week, of every month…of every year. I knew people who loved this job, but I never understood why. The Ministry's first floor always had something going on; I rarely saw owls on this level. It was a nice, quiet work environment, I suppose, but I could hardly concentrate when I was so bored.

When I got to work, I assumed that it would be the same as every other day. And it was normal, for most of it. I sat in my office, bored, after finishing and sending off all the paperwork I was asked to. Usually, I would call Hermione, or Ron, but they were on vacation. I could think of no one else, so I decided to leave early.

Just then, the phone rang and I fell back into my seat. Startled, I pressed the speaker phone button. "Potter."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there is a Mr.— You can't go in there!"

The door to my office burst open, and a very familiar sneer walked in, wearing a beautiful tailored suit. "Sorry, Potter, but this couldn't wait."

"I can call security if you would like." An elderly woman's heard appeared around the corner, glaring at Draco Malfoy.

I sighed, and stood up. "No, don't worry. I will handle this, Mrs. Moytles." I gestured for him to take a seat, and waved the secretary out. I took my seat and looked across my desk.

Malfoy didn't seem to have much to say, he only looked around my office with a look of contempt. "What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" Using all of my manner, respect and patience to force out that single polite line.

He chuckled, his shoulder twitching with amusement. "The Ministry really **has** you whipped, doesn't it?" He asked rhetorically. "I was hoping for a good insult, but I suppose—"

"Get on with it, Malfoy. I was just leaving."

He visibly glared, not used to being interrupted. "Look, we, I mean, **I** need help."

I couldn't help but joke. "Finally! I always knew you weren't **all there**. Now, there is a psychiatrist in the building I could refer—"

"Fuck off, you pouf!" He snarled, nearly jumping from his seat.

I smiled, triumphantly, trying to hide my anger. "I knew it wouldn't be long. Get out of my office, Malfoy. I don't help homophobes."

His mouth fell open. "You tricked me."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't trick anyone as desperate as you, Malfoy." I stood up, taking my briefcase in hand. "I know very well why you came to me, today."

He scoffed, "Oh, do you?"

"You came to make nice with me, hoping I might help your family get their things back from the Ministry." I walked past him, reveling in his obvious hurt pride. "But, like I said, I don't help homophobes."

"Is that the Great Ponce Potter's preference? To be a bigot?"

I laughed. "You call me a bigot, when you just called me a pouf? Oh I see the error of my ways, Malfoy, I'll definitely help your deatheater family, now!"

He glared, deeply at me. "You really have changed."

"A compliment, Malfoy? I'm blushing."

"What happened to make you this way, Potter?" He stood up, and walked around my desk, staring at me with… **worry** in his eyes. "The Harry Potter I knew would never let anyone get hurt. He saved my bloody life, many times during the war."

I lowered my gaze, and walked past him. "You're right, Malfoy." I heard him intake breath, happily. "The Harry Potter you **knew** would never let anyone get hurt." I walked to the door, and opened it. I stopped before walking out, and looked over at him. "But, that Harry Potter has been gone for many years."

"I bet someone could bring him back." I stopped walking at this, and turned to see Draco looking out my office window. "Someone could bring back your spirits."

I chuckled, half-heartedly. "When you find him, give him my number." And then I walked out, giving Mrs. Moytles specific instructions not to let him stay very long. My school days had taught me many things about Draco Malfoy, and I never trusted him.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco's POV

I don't think I had ever stared out a window for such a long time. I heard the anger in his voice, and I didn't blame him. Why did I say it, the one thing I swore I wouldn't?

I remember when father caught me. I was so terrified, but he just looked at me with disgust. And that's what he called me.

_I always knew you were a pouf. You're no man, you're barely a Malfoy!_

"_Pathetic_." I repeated his words, as I watched cars drive down the street.

Suddenly the door opened, and Mrs. Moytles walked in. She smelled of so much of tulips that by the third time I had been here, I never wanted to smell another flower. She was a nice lady, and very polite I. The first six times I came, anyway.

Though she didn't realize, she was very influential and helpful to me. The fourth time I came, about eight weeks before, I was rather frustrated. She always said Potter was in a _meeting_, or out of the office, but it was different this time.

"I'm very sorry to keep telling you this, Mr. Malfoy, but Mr. Potter just isn't here. His partner picked him up earlier."

I didn't let myself believe she meant it the way I thought she did. "His business partner? What kind of meeting would they be having at nine-thirty?"

She looked up at me from her tidy desk, and shook her head. "No, his **partner**, Jarred. They went out to dinner." She nodded suggestively.

I tilted my head in disbelief and nearly smiled. "Potter is…"

"He came out nearly two years ago, sir." She paused, and scooted back in her chair, and leaned over to open a drawer. "It was all over _the Daily Prophet_'s front page."

She pulled out a folded newspaper, picturing The-Boy-Who-Lived with a gorgeous young man. They had their arms around each other's waists and they were both smiling.

As I walked up the stairs to my room, I remembered that evening, and caught myself pretending that I was his partner in the picture. Smiling, and loved, holding him. I wondered what he smelled like.

"Draco?" I heard mother calling me, and I paused in front of her room. She looked hopefully at me, pleading, with her eyes, that I had made the deal.

I could barely look at her, I was so humiliated and I walked on. She stopped smiling the day we got the letter that father had been killed. I made a silent promise to her, then, that if I couldn't bring father back, I would restore glory to the Malfoy name.

A few days later, I had dressed in a tailored, black suit to play toggle with Mrs. Moytles, again when I heard mother scream. In mere moments, I was down the stairs and in the sitting room, where mother was holding a letter. She stood very still, except her hand, shook as it hovered over her mouth. I saw tears well up in her eyes, and I was sure it was another debt to add to father's collection.

"Draco…" she gasped, and reached the letter to me. "The Ministry is letting us keep everything! Your father's debts have been paid by the War Veterans' Fund!"

I rushed over, and took the letter, "Due to the overwhelming evidence, on part of, myself, the Minister, the legal services, and a few noted colleagues, the Malfoy family estate has been exonerated and all debts paid in full. We extend our sincerest apologies for the problems caused. Also the Ministry wishes to thank the young Draco Malfoy for his part in defeating You-Know-Who."

I paused, and then took up the envelope. Among the 'noted colleagues', Potter's name was mentioned several times. For "bringing forth evidence," "bringing this injustice to light," "arguing on behalf of the Malfoy Estate," and quite a few more.

Mother was so happy; she demanded I write a letter of thank you to those responsible. I smiled, "I'll do one better."

Later that day, I hurried into the office of one Harry Potter, before Mrs. Moytles even noticed me.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, again."

He sounded extremely tired, and I idly wondered if he ever slept. There were dark circles under his eyes that answered my question before it was really asked.

"If you don't mind saving the snide remarks, about how _you were right_, I have a lot of paperwork to finish."

I continued on my way, and took a seat in one of the beautiful leather chairs in front of his desk. He looked at me, and sighed, sitting back, obviously letting me have time to talk.

"I didn't come to be a prat." He scoffed. "I came to apologize." I took pride in how his mouth fell open, but I stopped myself from smiling. "And I came to invite you out to dinner." I paused as his eyes widened. "Tonight."

"Oh please, Malfoy." He scoffed. "I know very well about your sexual orientation **and** your increased sexual activity with the opposite sex."

This caught me off guard. "Stalking me, Potter?"

He laughed, sitting forward. "I'm sure you would love that. Actually, every single time you take someone on a date, the _Daily Prophet_ writes a nine page, goddamn article about _how long it will last_." Harry eyes burned into mine. "So, Mr. Malfoy… what do you **really** want?"

"I want to take Harry Potter to dinner."

He looked irritated. "You realize people will **talk**." He emphasized the word. "I can hear it already," he said disgustedly, and stood to look out the window. "_Did you see that Deatheater Malfoy with Faerie Potter?_"

I shook my head and stood. "I don't care."

His face was solemn. "I do. People like that always get to me." He rubbed his eyes, trying to push away fatigue. When he sat down, I followed suit and stared at him, determinedly. His eyes were curious, confused and a little sad. "Why?" I could have sworn he was begging somehow.

I wasn't exactly sure why. I felt horrible about the things I had said, but I wanted to see him socially. Not to apologize or thank him. For the first time, I realized **why** Potter had waited until school was over before he came out. The way I had treated him in thirty seconds, I could barely imagine a year or two at school.

Even still, I idly wondered where he drew so much strength from. My father was long gone and I still worried about disappointing him. I wondered silently if I would ever let anyone in on my secret, or if I would remain so deep in the closet I was seeing Narnia, forever. Sometimes it seemed like mother knew.

"Are you going to answer me?" His voice cracked with nervousness.

I was torn from my thoughts, and I looked up at him. The look of doubt on his face was getting worse, and he looked almost like I was holding something he direly wanted, and he was just out of reach.

I shook myself and leaned in, slightly. "Honestly, I don't know why. But, maybe," I paused, and looked straight into his eyes, "I'm jealous."

The look on his face, eyes partly shut and lips parted slightly, in an attempt to speak, I could barely contain myself. I was nearly panting, and I couldn't close my mouth; if I tried to breathe through my nose, I would probably have passed out.

"Jealous? Of what?" He sounded slightly out of breath. Even though it would have been a terrific way to get me to jump the gun, Potter seemed almost clueless to that fact. I understood then that he must have never been talked dirty to before. My body set on fire.

I smirked and got up from my seat, walking forward and placing a knee on his desk. He was shocked into silence, but that only propelled me to go further. Soon, my other knee was on the desk and I was crawling over papers, knocking some to the floor. He couldn't protest, as his pupils dilated and his breath hitched. I moved forward slightly, and our noses touched. I proceeded to give him a short Eskimo kiss, and I watched a blush spread across his cheeks, and his eyes shut slowly.

"Wh-What are you doing?" He gasped, but didn't move away.

"I was so jealous." I said smirking. "Jealous of everyone the _Profit_ photographed you holding onto," his eyes opened wide. I smiled, and rubbed our noses together for a moment more, before I slid off his desk.

As I was walking to the door, I heard a loud noise, and the window shook. I turned, but before I saw anything, Potter was rushing to me. "Don't you walk away from me." Then, his lips were on mine, and I was against the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

I got off of work early that night. I was not in the proper mental state to be working. Or so I claimed. I actually wanted to go home and go through my wardrobe. I was sure that Malfoy would never allow himself to be seen anywhere but the finest, so I had to dress accordingly.

I didn't have much in the way of fancy, so I put a white button-up over a white undershirt, and pulled some black slacks from the drawer. It was the first time in years that I had ironed something.

I was in no hurry, really. He told me seven, and it was only five 'o' clock. I took off the button-up, not wanting to ruin it. I walked into the kitchen and got a glass of water, trying to calm my nerves.

That last time I had dinner in public… scratch that, that last time I had a date in public, was—wait. Was it a date? Was it merely Malfoy thanking me for what I was doing? If so, why did he… do what he did? Why was I attracted? I shouldn't be doing this. I should call him and decline. I can't fraternize with a client.

Especially when I had gotten all of Malfoy's debts erased, like that and their stuff returned to them. I was sure someone would suspect foul play within the ministry, mainly within my office.

"_Faerie Potter's at it again_." I mused to myself, disgustedly.

After that, I went to the bathroom, and started up the shower, for the second time that day. When I got in, I washed extensively, thinking of what the night could bring. I looked at my reflection in the safety glass, and smiled, a couple times, trying to decide which looked best, and most professional.

Then, I laughed. I tried to make that professional, as well, but it wasn't working. Every time I thought of laughing at something Malfoy would say, I'd squeak a bit out of nervousness. I shook my head and tried something else.

After I had failed miserably at trying to laugh, calmly, I decided to think of opening lines. "Hey, how was your day?" I tried to say it a few different ways, but I always sounded like a little school girl. "No… um… 'How about this weather? The same as it is every other bloody day!'" I mock laughed, and felt like crying.

When I was having no luck with anything else, I decided to try something else. I placed my hands on my hips, pulled my shoulders back, flexed my belly, and smiled the smile that used to drive Seamus crazy.

"Oi, Malfoy," I whispered seductively, "your place or mine?" I licked my lips as the thoughts flooded my subconscious. Before I could help myself, my body began reacting. "Shit!" I bent over, trying to control myself and when that didn't work, I turned the water on cold. It took about twenty minutes, and some very disturbing thoughts to make it go down.

I turned the warm water back up, and checked my clock. 5:47. I cussed at myself and got out. I dried myself quickly, and rubbed the towel over my scalp. After that, I tossed it into the hamper and stood before my mirror and stared. I traced a few of the scars on my torso. It was strange that something I had seen everyday, since the war ended, could still surprise me. Some of them even hurt, still. Maybe…

I scoffed at myself, "Merlin, Potter, what are you thinking? You just threw Jarred out two weeks ago." I traced the scar on my shoulder, and remembered the way Jarred scratched it, and bit into it.

_I deserve better_.

I pushed the memory of his final words to me, and the day he left, away. I looked at the person in the mirror with somewhat renewed confidence. I followed the curve of my bicep, and smiled. I stood up straight and took my glasses off. I had contacts, but the blasted muggle contraptions left my eyes burning!

I almost laughed at my own false confidence in an attempt to see the beauty that had never been present in my scarred form. Though, I was fit, I was not attractive. I shrugged at myself and looked at the clock. I let out a disappointed breath and went to my room to get dressed. I put on my shoes and grabbed my coat, before running out the door.

I reached the apparating point with ease, and was instantly at the restaurant that Malfoy had said. I walked inside and looked through the second door to see if he was inside. It didn't help that half the bloody restaurant was behind a huge bloody wall!

Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned. I felt my mouth drop open. Malfoy stood in a beautiful, tailored, black suit, with a bright white button-up underneath his dinner jacket and brilliantly shining shoes. I had only one problem with his ensemble. On his white shirt, the top two buttons were undone, and sat open revealing the edge of his chest. I nearly touched it, before I stopped myself. This wasn't a date.

"Been waiting long, Potter?"

I knew it wasn't a date by the bored tone that Malfoy gave me. "Maybe five minutes." Maybe more like ten.

He nodded and walked past me into the restaurant. I followed and watched as he stopped a matr'd and whispered something to him. The boy nodded, and gestured for us to follow him. He led us to a more private corner, with few tables. I was a little worried for my life, back here, alone… with Malfoy.

I tried to keep my attention off of Malfoy, so I sat down and looked at the paintings. It wasn't easy, especially when I felt the bastard's eyes on me. I finally looked at him, and sighed. "What?"

He grinned and shook his head, snapping his fingers. A waiter appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Let me order for you. They don't speak English here." He said something to the boy, and he bowed slightly. "I know you like roast chicken, is that fine?"

This caught me off guard, but I nodded. He sat up and cleared his throat, turning his head up to the waiter, he started speaking. His neck was completely blatant, now. His skin was so pale and soft looking. His lips, his tongue, his eyes… I was mesmerized by him.

He caught me staring, before saying one more thing to the boy. He snapped his fingers and the waiter disappeared, again. "Potter, I understand that you have questions?"

I nodded, sitting forward, "Damn right I do." He sat quietly and waited for me to continue. I took a sharp breath, and asked, "Why, **really**, did you ask me to dinner?" He looked as though he were about to speak, but I interrupted. "I know very well which… team you root for, Malfoy. You can't tell me that I'm wrong."

He shook his head. "But, you **are** wrong."

"Wh-what?"

"I'm not straight, Harry."

I was exasperated at the use of my given name. "Wh-what?"

He chuckled, a bit and leaned forward. "I'm gay."

I think my mouth almost broke from my face, falling open. I tried to get my mind around the idea, but the same thought kept popping into my head. "B-but all those women the _Prophet_ talked about!" I nearly stood from my seat.

His calm expression made me sit down. "You should know as well as any that the _Prophet_ says anything to sell papers."

"Bollocks," I interrupted. "Why would they lie about twenty three different women? Where did the photos come from?"

"I don't deny that I was with them, but we did nothing more than walk, and drink coffee."

"You aren't out, then—what am I thinking? Malfoy, Malfoy you aren't gay!" I nearly laughed at myself, for believing it for a moment!

He sighed, and sat back. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Malfoy, you fucked half the women in our grade. Don't tell me they were all lies too?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No, not lies. Clever deceptions created to make my father leave me alone. Once it got around that me and those girls were… sleeping with each other, he let me be."

I was beginning to take him seriously. It all sounded realistic to me, but this whole evening was so surreal. "Fine, Malfoy, you're gay."

His grin transformed into a smile, and I seemed lost again. I couldn't take my eyes off the dimples that formed. I searched his face a bit more, and noticed a small dark dot. Malfoy had a tiny freckly, on his left cheek, barely an inch below his eye. The smallest of details had me transfixed, and I couldn't move.

"Is there something bothering you?" He asked, interrupting my stare. "Something on my face?" He sat back and rubbed his cheek, suspiciously.

"Yeah, 's right…" I paused, putting a hand over my mouth. "Malfoy, excuse me. I need to use the men's room." With that I got up and walked past him to the restrooms, toward the wall I had seen earlier.

Once inside, I made sure no one else was around, before slapping myself across the face. I looked in the mirror at myself, and glared. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" I turned the faucet on cold and splashed water onto my face. The heat of my desires burned through my skin.

I took a few long breaths and stood up and looked in the mirror again. I gasped and jumped back, at the sight of Malfoy. He was leaning against the bathroom door; his eyes were closed a little, and his hips jutted outward.

"M-Malfoy, um… I'll leave you to it."

I walked toward the door, but he didn't move. I reached past him, with a shaking hand and I grabbed the handle. I was about to pull, before a pale hand reached up and grabbed mine from the door. His other came up and turned the latch, locking the door.

Until then, his eyes had been staring down at the hand in his grasp, but, his eyes dragged up to mine. I had stalked out and faced down Voldemort, with scarcely a flinch, but I was dead petrified to be here now, with Draco. There was really no choice as to where I could go. Never had I felt so lost in a five stall and urinal bathroom.

I suppose it was the look in those steely gray eyes that was making me dizzy. The lust, lust for me. I tried to move, but his grip on my hand was steady. We merely stared at each other for what seemed like forever, then, I felt my arm moving. He brought my outspread fingers to his lips, and took on into his mouth.

I don't recall when I started shaking, but it was bad, now. My eyebrows crossed, and my mouth opened a little. His tongue ran over the tip, for a second, and then he bit down. I hissed, and tried to pull away, but I was stopped. He _sucked_. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.

I knew the bulge in my pants was evident, but I really didn't care. Just like I didn't care when he started walking us into a stall, and pushed me against the closed door. I was panting by the time he got down on one knee. I whimpered, out loud, and slammed my head against the door in punishment.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, his voice seductive, but reprimanding.

"Do what?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He stood up, again and slid his hands up the back of my neck to my head. "Hurt yourself?"

He kissed my cheek, to my neck as his hands slid down my shirt-covered chest to my stomach, past my naval to my pants. He fiddled with my belt, teasing my more, I expect. When my belt was undone, he faltered at my button.

"I don't know." I whispered, my mind was so muddled; I could barely comprehend that three word sentence. "I… feel stupid, so I… Merlin, Malfoy, can you go _any_ slower?"

He chuckled, and slid his hand inside my pants. I gasped, and bit my lip, again. He kissed my closed mouth and his hand slid lower. He was not expecting a response from the kiss, but I opened my mouth, and leaned forward, taking his mouth. I could have sworn I heard him moan because of it. I smiled and took his face in my hands. The hand that wasn't in my pants came up to grab my jacket. He was about my height, about an inch shorter, but he pulled me down, and into the kiss.

When he pulled away, we were both out of breath, and he got back on one knee. I tried to object, but my words were caught in my throat as he took my in his mouth. I groaned, out loud, though I tried my best not to. He chuckled, which only made me yelp. My knees were about to give out, so I grabbed onto the stall door behind me.

My heart pounded in my chest, and my breaths came in quick pants. My free hand grabbed the back of his hair in a tight hold. Both of his hands were on my hips, holding me in place. I was mush, and my grip on the door was waning. I felt his head moving up and down, over me and I held onto the last shreds of sanity I had.

It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and I wanted so much to jump, but I held on. "Drac—o… stop… gonna…" He sucked _hard_, once more and I couldn't see the bathroom's tiled wall, anymore. It seemed I was looking at the night sky, there were so many stars, and then everything went black. I cried out gripping the stall door as hard as possible, trying not to do the same to Draco's head.

I heard him whisper something, and when I felt less wet, I realized it was a cleaning spell. I let go of the door, to fix my pants, but forgot about my legs being mush. I fell forward, and Draco caught me. I heard him chuckle, and whisper something in a sweet voice, but I couldn't tell what it was, exactly.

I just nodded, and reached down to button my pants. When I could feel my lower half, again, I stood up. I looked at him, but his face was unreadable. I felt betrayal spread through me, and I fled from the bathroom, then from the restaurant. It was only when I was outside that I realized I'd left my coat inside.

"Damn it." I sighed and shook my head. I could come back tomorrow for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco's POV

After I used the cleaning spell, and stood up, his face still conveyed pure ecstasy. It tickled my pride to know he'd never had it so good. Then, his hand let go of the door, and he tumbled forward onto my.

"Oh, careful, love." I said, but he merely nodded against my shoulder.

I heard him button his pants up, and pull the zipper, and then his belt clanked. He stood up straight, still a little weak. His face was a little red with embarrassment that he had fallen. He smiled anxiously at me and leaned against the door.

I stared, and couldn't help but think… _beautiful_. From the look of horror that his face took on, I thought that I had perhaps said it aloud. Then, he opened the door and hurried out of the bathroom.

Almost everything in me told me to run after, but my conscience warned otherwise. "I will let him go. For now."

I left the restroom and went back to our table. I grabbed my coat off the back of my chair, and glanced across the table. I gasped and looked to the entrance, thinking that maybe I could get it to him. But I knew he was gone. I apologized to the waiter about the meal and paid on my way out.

I continued to battle with myself, that night. I dropped my head into my hands as questions billowed through it. Was it too soon? Was I too rash? Did he believe I only wanted sex? Stupid Gryffindor.

I looked over at the coat that I had laid on my bed. Knowing Potter, he would return the following day, to retrieve his coat, while avoiding me. What was I going to do? I could floo the restaurant and tell them to contact me when and if he showed, but I couldn't be guaranteed that he would stay long enough for me to get over there.

I could take it to his office, since tomorrow was a work day. But, again, he might leave before I got there, or just not show up. And if he did, Mrs. Moytles may already have been given express orders to deny me entrance.

For some reason, I could smell Harry, very near to me. It was then, that I noticed the coat in my hands. I was clutching the bloody thing to my chest, sniffing it like some love-sick kitten. Oh, _Merlin_ it smelled good. I inhaled a few more times before a thought came. I had his coat, I could just ask if I could give it to him.

Before I realized it, I had laid back on my bed, exhausted. Sleep came quite quickly to me, and while the world was fading, I could smell Harry. I dreamed of him holding me, all through the night. He whispered beautiful things that were so _un_-Potter, I think I chuckled in my sleep.

The next day, I woke, feeling more rested than I had in years, despite having slept in my clothes. I couldn't help but sigh when I realized that my dream was just that, and I was once again alone. I felt the tears stinging my eyes, as I thought of how the days had progressively gotten shorter, and my depression had grown so.

I remembered when father was bedridden, and he called me to his room. He asked me all sorts of questions, mainly about Pansy, and our relationship. I answered all of his questions, but I was forced to lie. I always knew that he never believed me about her.

_I always knew you were a pouf. You're no man, you're barely a Malfoy!_ _Pathetic_.

_I have this dream that you will one day understand. I have this dream of being whole_.

_And I have a dream, too, one that you __**will**__ follow through, boy. Get out of my sight_.

"Yes, father." I gasped, catching myself saying it aloud.

Father only ever cared about carrying on the Malfoy name. He would not have a faerie for a son. Until he was actually dead and buried, I tried to change. Me and Pansy spent a lot of time together, in seventh year, and she even persuaded me to sleep with her. It's rather pathetic to tell people that I lost my hetero-virginity at seventeen.

Even now, I laugh at the thought. I couldn't get it up for almost an hour. No matter what she did, I didn't react. For some reason, Pansy was my closest friend after that. She was the only person who knew I was gay for almost twelve years.

I smiled at the memories of school. I had so many of Potter that you would almost mistake us for chums. We were always, well… stalking each other, really. Potter always thought that I was up to something, and I just wanted a chance to be near him.

Sounds pathetic, right? Pansy said so. So much so that after I initially spoke of it, I never brought it up, again. For a very long time, I kept my attraction to Potter locked inside, never letting anything escape, that might give it away, to anyone. Least of all, Potter himself.

The idea that he might find out one day terrified me to no end. So, I did my best to make him hate me, stay far, far away, and never know that I even fancied my gender. I wasn't so sure about the reason behind it, since Potter knew many gays, and never seemed to care, either way. I never even considered putting two and two together, and adding up that Potter, too, was gay.

I wonder if things would have been different if I'd known. Probably not. Considering the side he always assumed I was on, it makes sense that nothing would change.

"Well, it's going to now." I stated, standing up and walking to my door. "Draco Malfoy won't be brushed off so easily."

I grabbed the coat, and told mother where I was going, and I walked away before I could see the smile spread across her face. I think that she always knew about me, but ignored it, not wanting to incur father's wrath.

But I was much too busy to think about that just then. I apparated as close to the ministry as I could get, and hurried inside. I quickened my pace as I neared the elevator. It opened as I got close, and no one was inside. I thought that maybe God was giving me a little push, and I smiled. I was the only one that got in that elevator, and it never stopped, as it went up.

When I got to the office floor, the doors opened, and I could see Potter's office. I began walking toward it, but stopped when I remembered. I turned around, and saw an empty desk. I looked around, thinking that the crazy woman would pop out of nowhere, but she never did. And so I walked onward, and stopped at Harry's door.

"Oh God," I whispered, "this is too easy. What's going to happen? Trap doors on the other side?" I gripped the handle, and turned it, whispering, "One never knows, until…" The door inched open, and I glimpsed something that nearly ripped my stomach to pieces.

There, in front of me, was Potter. Turned toward the window, his shirt off, and his pants unbuttoned, in the middle of changing out of a rather beautiful suit. His body was well muscled, I could tell, and his arms seemed chiseled to perfection by the Gods. He pulled his pants up properly, and buttoned them, before slipping and undershirt on.

I was panting with frustration when he finally noticed me. He turned, hearing the creaking of the door, and I made a mental note to get it some oil, so that I could watch this scene more often.

The coat in my hand seemed a little wet from the sweat in my palm. I found myself swallowing around a wasteland desert in my throat, when he turned toward me. His eyes conveyed such strong emotion, as the light from outside reflected, making the emeralds luminous. Personally, I had been very forward with Potter, until this time, and the look he gave me made me want to strip and let him have his fun with me on his desk.

That thought turned my attention to his parchment-covered desk. This did not go unnoticed by Potter, and he turned, and looked at me. "What brings you here, Malfoy?"

Without looking at him, I answered, but what was in my head, and what came out my mouth were two different comments. While meaning to say "I brought your coat." I made a series of strange noises, with "…Coat… fuck… desk…" being the only real words.

His laugh reverberated everywhere, and he knew what I wanted. "I don't think so, Malfoy. Thanks for the uh… assistance the other night, but—"

"Fuck you, Potter. The 'assistance' I gave you the other night is not going to help get you off today."

I gestured toward the obvious lump in his pants, and he smiled up at me. "It did so well last night." He whispered, edging toward me. "And this morning."

I found my knees shaking, as I yearned to touch him. His steps toward me were slow, but steady, as if to prove that he had more control than I did. It only made it seem as if I was the only one who wanted it. But, when he got close enough, and his arm reached out to me, and yanked me to him, our chests hit, and our mouths were open. His lips were soft, and wet, and hot and I was moaning, begging for anything and everything.

One of his hands was gripping my hair, and the other was on my shoulder. I had his undershirt tight in both hands' grasp. When he pulled away, I thought he would run again, so I gripped tighter, and looked into his eyes. We were both breathing heavily, and staring at each other. His fingers moved up my wrists, and pulled my hands away from his shirt, ignoring my noise of protest.

He went to the door, and walked out, barely looking at me as he went out. I stared at the door in shock, with my mouth open, slightly. I smacked myself in the forehead, whispering something about "stupid", and the door opened again. I figured it was going to be Mrs. Moytles to tell me that I had to leave, so that Potter wouldn't have to confront me, again, but to my surprise it wasn't.

Potter stood at the doorway, his posture showed how nervous he felt. He wouldn't look at me, and I felt as though I had gone back in time to my adolescent days. It was like my first time going on a date, how my stomach was fluttering. When he walked back to me, and took my hand in his, kissing each finger tip, it wasn't sexual to me. It did well to turn me on, but it felt like a declaration of love, rather than a sexual invitation.

I felt as I imagine a new bride might feel, as her groom whispers his vows. And for a moment, when he kissed my left ring finger, I could almost feel the cold metal at the base of it. I could almost imagine our wedding…

_Do you swear to take this man to be your lawfully, and magically wedded husband, through sickness or health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?_

"I—" I caught myself before I whispered the word aloud. He looked at me with a puzzled expression, and I smiled. "I was wondering… where you went."

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss me. "I went to tell Mrs. Moytles I was leaving for the day."

Suddenly, we were apparating. I found myself in an unfamiliar place, still wrapped in Harry's warm arms, I looked around. His apartment was large, for someone who worked in an office. It was two floors, from what I could see, and it seemed to have two bathrooms. We were standing in the living room, on the first floor, and to my left, at the foot of the stairs, there was the entry into the kitchen. I looked at Harry, as he took my hand, and led me up the stairs.

Harry's body was perfect in every bloody way. His chest and stomach were toned, as if he worked out relentlessly, but he was still quite thin. As I had him pushed against the wall of my bedroom, he fit so faultlessly against me. Then he spun us, and he lay back, pulling me on top of him. His hips cradled mine, with nothing but raw passion between us. And jeans that seemed to grow tighter, each second.

Our lips broke maybe twice in the span of twelve minutes of snogging. I pulled him on top of me, with my legs open; my head rolled back, and I felt my back pop from arching it so. Everything in me screamed with pleasure.

I found my willpower, and sat up. He followed me, as if reading my mind and I pulled his shirt over his head. I took my own shirt, and ripped it open, sending buttons all over the floor. He gasped, and looked confusedly at me, but I assume that my frustrated groan explained that I would not wait much longer.

I laid back and felt my pants being pulled, ever so slowly from my hips and I sighed with relief as I was pulled from their confines. My hands gripped the bed frame and I gasped as the cold air met my hot flesh, but I could no longer stand not being touched.

He grinned, and kissed from my belly button to my abdomen, to my chest, to my neck. By the time he got to my lips, I was almost begging. He kissed my quivering bottom lip, but moved away, trailing kisses down my body, again.

It was wilder than my wildest dream could have ever been. No fantasy, no imagination, nothing could ever even come close to the sensation of absolute Harry. His skin on my skin, his tongue on me, and his fingers inside me. His mouth was on me, sucking, as if trying to pull my soul from me.

When he released me, I could have killed him, until I was no longer empty. He was filling me, slowly. His length throbbed inside me, and I looked up and saw him staring at me with worry, and apology. I smiled, and he relaxed against me. His face changed so much, as he began to move in and out of me. My hand found the small of his back, and I pulled him deeper as my legs tightened around his waist. My head fell back, and a groan escaped, from deep within my chest.

No pain. There was a faint sting, deep inside, but everything felt too amazing to be painful. I had never been so intimate with anyone, so close, like one person. His arms on each side of me, his body thrusting. I felt my eyes begin to burn, and tears of joy prickled the corners.

_I have this dream of being whole_.

I pushed the memory aside, as I heard him saying my name. "Draco… won't last… going to…" He slowed, and looked deep into my eyes. "Draco… cum for me."

"Move," I gasped and he did. Two more thrusts and I **was** cumming, just as he had asked.


End file.
